Of Nightmares and of Fantasies
by Rhaegal Nymeria Stark
Summary: Sequel to "You are a liar." Dreams are safer than reality. Because if you act on your desires, even though you've been told that it's wrong, you're not actually doing it. The only danger is that you might give in when you wake up. Warnings for homophobia, violence and discrimination talked about LGBTQ people and mentions of abuse, rape threats of rape and implied rape fantasies.


Disclaimer: Own nothing

MonroexClarke and NiylahxClarke. Sequel to "You are a liar." Warnings for discussions of abuse of LGBTQ people and implied rape fantasies and warnings for abuse and rape threats. Dark fic, well, sort of. It's complicated. Wells and Atom are still alive.

 **Of Nightmares and of Fantasies:**

The air around her was cold and stale, as it always used to be on the Ark. The lights dim, the steel walls an unfeeling, gray color. She got herself up off the thin-threaded, steel cot, bare feet above the floor as she groggily was about to get her glass of water that she often put on her bedside for when she was thirsty late at night, when an arm emerged out of nowhere and wrapped around her waist, making her freeze. This was a dream. She knew now that this had to be a dream. She lived with her mother and father in the Ark. That was what she was seeing now. Her mother and father slept next to each other, wrapped in each other's arms. Clarke knew that this was a false image. Her father was dead. And Clarke hadn't seen her mother since the mountain. She should be surrounded by the sleeping figures of her fellow 100 and the Grounders that had come with them to the City of Lights. Not her mother and father.

A thick, low, but feminine voice snorted out behind her, "Going somewhere, Griffin?" Clarke released a small, weak laugh. That answered that. She knew this was a dream now. Or rather, a nightmare. There was nothing she could do now. This nightmare would play out as it needed to until she woke up.

As all the other nightmares involving the two of THEM always did.

Her body was grabbed and she was flung onto her back, face up at the steel ceiling, her waist was straddled, her arms grabbed and slammed down on the mattress arms by Clarke's head. Clarke was looking right into intense, green eyes. She knew it wouldn't matter that her mother and father were here. This was a nightmare or a dream. Therefore, her mother and father would be able to do nothing to help. Monroe's smirk became a feral grin. "Where do you think you're going, beautiful?" The predatory tone in Monroe's voice was unmistakable. Clarke fought a shiver. Monroe's first name was Zoe. But she insisted on being called Monroe. She felt it suited her better.

Clarke wasn't sure she didn't see how that would work. "Zoe" belonged to a more feminine type of girl. "Monroe" was gender neutral. Monroe never made it clear whether she preferred "she," "he" or they. She always seemed fine with whatever you might call her. Clarke knew other kids in the 100 whose gender did not line up with their sex. And she knew their preference of title. But Monroe, for Clarke, was a mystery when it came to what angered her and what made her uncomfortable.

That was one of the things that made Clarke nervous about the other girl. Monroe was hard to read. She came off as simple. But that couldn't be the furthest from the truth. She was hard to read.

Clarke was sure, certain that this was a dream or a nightmare and only a dream or a nightmare. But her blood still ran cold and her heart still raced as Monroe lowered herself down, grinding her body against Clarke's, a catlike grin on her face. "Clarke," The phantasm of Monroe growled, "Just let us in. Let me and Niylah have you." She slipped her right leg between Clarke's leg, dragging her leg up so that she was forcing Clarke to grind against it as the braided girl whispered dirtily in Clarke's ear, hands going to Clarke's wrists, holding her down. "You know you want us. I know. And Niylah knows. What's stopping you?"

Monroe's long, thin braids dropped down over Clarke's throat and Clarke shivered at the sensation, reminded of many slight caresses. The heat building between her legs was driving her crazy. Clarke's heart skipped another few beats. She tried to pull away, but Monroe was holding her down tightly. Those hot lips soon encased part of her skin.

"You belong with me and Niylah, Clarke, you know that, right?" Monroe's voice was not deep and commanding, but rough, and calm, and Clarke couldn't pull away from it, even if a part of her knew that she had to.

"Please," Clarke tried to breathe, voice ragged, "This isn't right. I can't trust anyone."

"Why?" Monroe snickered by Clarke's ear. "Because of wars and alliances? Who's gonna stop us? We're in the middle of nowhere. There's no enemy Grounders. And I'm not an enemy. Neither is Niylah. So this isn't wrong. How can it be wrong, Clarke?" Monroe's leg kept grinding up into Clarke's groin, making Clarke moan into the room, her head thrown back against the bed. Monroe's right hand let go of Clarke's wrist and went down to Clarke's chest, hand wrapping around the end of Clarke's right breast, thumb and index finger pinching Clarke's nipple through the thin fabric of Clarke's light lavender shirt.

All three the Monroe's grinding against Clarke's groin and squeezing and twisting her nipple and the biting of Monroe's teeth into Clarke's throat, made Clarke come undone in seconds. She cried out, white covering her eyes in explosions. A gasp was brought from her throat loudly.

She snapped up suddenly, groaning, gasping and sweating as she found herself alone in the dark. Clarke looked around the room that was empty of anything except for her, her art supplies and the now alert and worried stray dog on the floor, sniffing and whining by Clarke's bed. The strays that Clarke and her family had taken in from this city weren't exactly fierce. They were unused to human existence. But a few scraps from the new humans in their lives and the dogs were won over fast.

After establishing a few rules with the dogs, the strays were somewhat safe to be around. The one on Clarke's floor was a Labrador and beagle mix. So it was short and medium size. She could handle the dog well if the female stray tried to bite her. But Clarke knew that her dog, "Maria" wouldn't bite her. Maria was too sweet and would roll over as soon as she got even a little attention, eager for belly rubs.

So Clarke trusted the dog not to act frantic. Clarke got out of bed, feet away from the dog and she started walking to the door, hand wiping away the sweat that flowed down her face. The heat was unbearable down in Clarke's nether regions. It still felt like Monroe was tormenting her down there. The grinding of Monroe's leg against Clarke's groin, if only in her dream, had been overwhelming. Clarke left the room, Maria on her heels. She went out the door and to the small, still dusty bathroom across the hall. Here in the City of Lights, there were many open residences. No human life here until Clarke and her family came along. So there were many places they could go to sleep. But many of those places were covered in dust.

Bathrooms in Ireland were reasonable, but small.

Clarke flipped the switch on the wall and the light in the bathroom went on.

Just as the name suggested, the "City of Lights" was a city of lights. It had a stowed away generator, a huge generator that produced electricity. And it gave light to all of the lights and other machines in the city. The only issue had been when they first got to Ireland was that the lights hadn't been used in almost a hundred years. So Raven, Monty and the other tech savvy people had to look at the machines and got them going. They found a few other machines like them and Raven now had the blueprints for the machines, so that they could make a new one from spare parts if they needed to.

So when it came to electricity, Clarke and her group had all that they needed.

Clarke leaned against the porcelain sink, hands grabbing the end of the sink and staring at herself in the cracked mirror that had taken forever to clean.

It still had smudges encrusted in its corners that refused to be washed away because of years of accumulation. Clarke's light blonde hair hung down past her shoulders, sweaty, just like her face and neck. She panted, hearing Maria sit behind her. She didn't want this. She didn't want to feel this way. Not again. She didn't want to feel these things again.

What if she let Monroe and Niylah in? What would happen? How bad would it be?

She couldn't take the betrayal again. How devastating would the betrayal be this time? Clarke wouldn't be able to bear it. She knew she wouldn't be able to. She wasn't strong enough. Clarke brought her hands to her head and wiped her brow clean of the sweat, breathing in and out again and again. She had to go back to sleep. She had her father's watch on the shelf across from the bed and she hadn't looked at it. But she could just feel that it wasn't time to wake up. It probably was only two or three o'clock in the morning. She needed to get a good night sleep.

She grabbed a small glass of on the shelf, filled it with water and took a sip. That was another thing this city had. Plumbing. Water. They had all the fresh flowing water they could ask for. Clarke put the empty glass down and walked to the door. She turned off the light and quietly called for Maria to follow her. With an enthusiastic woof, Maria followed Clarke to the bedroom. Clarke got to bed again, Maria dropping down next to the bed again.

Clarke tried to get her mind away from thoughts of Monroe's compact and lean body, or her braids, or her lingering green eyes. Or that smirk that always made Clarke on edge and wild at the same time. She tried not to think of Niylah's gentle understanding that Clarke just knew would edge into gentle dominance. She didn't want to imagine those gentle hands and that warm, loving mouth on her body. Or those tender, warm brown eyes following her everywhere. She knew if either of them or worse, both of them got her alone, she wouldn't be able to resist them.

As much as she hated it, it was why Clarke always made sure that the door to this room was locked. No, she didn't _think_ Monroe or Niylah would do anything like that. But they might try something else. Might try to tempt her. Might try to use other tactics to seduce her. So a locked door was what it had to be.

At last, Clarke got herself to sleep, mind flowing with thoughts of Niylah and Monroe. Soon, she found more fever-induced dreams awaited her that night.

She woke up the next morning in a sweat and aching between her legs stronger than ever. The only reason why she was able to leave the bed was because Maria was hopping up and down, trying to get her to let the dog out of the building to run around and go to the bathroom.

Clarke always liked to think she had a strong, firm grasp on what was right and what was wrong. It might have been a little bumpier down here on Earth than up on the Ark where every slight wrong move would be looked at and had the potential to get you thrown into the Skybox then floated, but Clarke was sure she had a good grasp on it. She knew if Bellamy had his way, corporal punishment would be involved for any stealing or possible betrayal. Or worse, banishment. To be fair, many Grounders were dangerous in that way too, but Clarke didn't let that happen. Clarke made sure physical abuse didn't happen to any of them. She protected all of them from Bellamy. From Lexa. From Anya and Gustus. From all of the rougher Azgeda and Trikru. Banishment was what had happened to Murphy at the beginning when they had first come down to Earth. And Clarke knew that that had only happened because Clarke had been trying to protect Murphy from Bellamy's beatings after Charlotte's death. People respected Bellamy, but feared him too.

They just respected Clarke. Admired her. Some of them even had come to love her.

Clarke would be the first to admit it was absolutely was better down here than up on the Ark. Even with the Grounders trying to kill them before the Commander had made them the 13th clan and had brought them into the coalition. There was fresh air. Fresh water. Actual animals and plants. It was so warm. But one thing you couldn't get away from? No matter how far away from the Ark you were? Or even with the adults of the Ark cowed into submission by the Grounder armies, even with both Pike and Thelonius Jaha dead?

The Ark beliefs that had been imprinted on all of the 100. Imprinted so much that it was practically branded into their bones.

And Clarke knew, she _knew_ that Ark beliefs were bull. She knew that. But she could never escape the teachings that all of the Ark authority had impressed upon her growing up. Her father had not believed any of those teachings and had encouraged his daughter to disbelieve them too. But he was dead now, having been floated for trying to expose the flaws in the Ark. Which practically left Clarke alone in the world besides Wells. Sure, Clarke's mother had still been alive. But the woman had hounded Clarke for feeling any sexual desires with other women. Clarke remembered one time Abby had found her kissing another girl, Susie, on the Ark. Abby had shown so much disappointment, saying that she had raised her daughter better than that. So besides Wells, Clarke was practically alone in the world.

Eight years later, at the age of sixteen, she had been sent down with the 100. Eight years of being told by the strictest of teachers and by her mother that she should be grateful that she was being taken care of everyone on the Ark living only to serve the council. The small group of people existing to serve the masses. Along with the many derogatory names that people of lower class had called her and the rest of her people, Clarke had also been treated to more than a few lessons from a very conservative teacher on the Ark called Rex Vick. He, unlike a few of the more open-minded teachers and guards on the Ark, was ingrained with the old beliefs. Though he had not been religious, he believed that for two men to be together and for two women to be together was unnatural. Disgusting. Against how nature meant for humans to be.

Clarke, damn her, but she had been so happy when she learned that Rex had not survived the trip down to Earth. He had died in the halls of the Ark during the riots and explosions. He wasn't alive anymore. But even so, even with his death, he could still hurt her. The Ark beliefs were still as ingrained in her as they had been in Rex Vick. She had seen Miller and Monty together. She had seen Monty and Jasper together. She knew from witnessing that Deek and Jones were together. And she had seen Atom and Monty together. Harper and a Grounder girl together. Apparently more than a few of the delinquents didn't let those beliefs touch them.

Hell, Clarke knew that it didn't matter. She knew, because she found her feelings become unbearable in how she used to look at Lexa, the Grounders' Commander. The Grounder she had protected her people from. Clarke hated what she had to do for her people. She had to kill everyone in the mountain for them. And they had traveled together to the City of Lights. And her anxiety didn't stop. Not with Lexa. It didn't stop the anxiety that gnawed at her every time she looked at Monroe. Watched the golden braids, some dyed bright pink flying in the wind.

It didn't stop the nervousness when she saw Niylah skinning an animal or running, patrolling the places where in the City of Lights, they lived, or saw Niylah just staying near her, looking at her and undressing her with her eyes. Clarke had thought that only men did that. Undressed a girl with their eyes. But Clarke knew the look Niylah gave her. Niylah undressed her with her eyes. And it made heat go down between her legs. It made her shiver in anticipation. And fear. But she couldn't risk it. Clarke knew what happened the last time she let herself trust someone that way. With Lexa. And with Anya. Anya had chosen Lexa over Clarke and had followed her Commander at the Mountain. The both of them had betrayed her. Double the betrayal.

Clarke didn't fear Lexa or Anya. Just hated them. Clarke was reassured by this hatred of the traitorous Grounders. It kept her from thinking of any possibility of the two of them ever being together or her being with Anya. On the other hand, Clarke didn't want to say that she was afraid of Monroe or Niylah. She wasn't. At least, not in the way that people might think she was because she was avoiding Monroe and Niylah. She was avoiding both women, but not because of fear of physical violence. She feared them because of the desires that she bore for them. The flames of need and love.

She was sure she loved them. She knew, knew since their escape from the mountain after she had killed all the mountain people that she was attracted to and loved Monroe. Niylah? Clarke wasn't sure when her feelings for the older had sparked. But they had. Maybe sometime around the now destroyed Ireland, when they had first found the map to the City of Lights.

Clarke still remembered how Niylah had smiled at her in what used to be Westport, Ireland. Clarke had slaughtered a wolf that got loose from a zoo where it had been born and had eaten its food and attacked. The wolf, from what Clarke had surmised had been born in the zoo after the bombs hit and ate most of the other animals. That was how it had survived for years. Clarke had been covered in the wolf's blood and all Niylah did was look at her as if she was the most beautiful person in the world. Clarke hated to admit it. But she loved Niylah. She loved Monroe. But she couldn't let them near her. They would hurt her if she let them.

Her heart couldn't afford to be shattered again.

Clarke didn't know if she loved Niylah and Monroe as much as she loved Lexa, or more. Her relationship with Lexa had died in its infancy when Lexa had left them all to die. So Clarke never got to explore that relationship much. But she knew that she loved them. They meant more to her every day. They were beautiful in a way that people didn't usually think about. Monroe was wild and rugged. Niylah was gorgeous and gentle. Almost soft in how gentle she was, but was in no way submissive. Niylah let Clarke know in how she looked at her. The hot, amused stare that Niylah gave Clarke told the younger blonde that if they ended up in bed together, Clarke would NOT be the one in control. And knowing that scared the life out of Clarke. Niylah and Monroe scared her because Clarke knew what she'd let them do, if she gave them the chance.

It was why Clarke could never let either Niylah or Monroe near her sexually, or near her heart.

Lexa had hurt her too much to allow that. It was a bitter thing to realize, that Lexa had won. She had ruined any chance of Clarke trusting anyone with her heart again. Clarke was sure that Lexa was laughing at her now. She had to be. Lexa had ruined any chance Clarke had of being happy with someone.

As much as Clarke wanted to be with Monroe and Niylah, she couldn't allow it. She couldn't risk trusting anyone like that again. It was too painful last time and it would be unbearable this time.

So Clarke said nothing to either Monroe or to Niylah. She didn't approach them. She preferred to keep them in the dark about what she knew. And led as mundane a life as she could while she and her people lived in the City of Lights. It wasn't much of a mundane life, since they had all experienced war and had traveled halfway around the world to experience peace and many of them were young adults and teenagers with children. But they had way more of a normal life now than they had almost a year ago.

Clarke was really thankful for that kind of mundane life. Now, maybe some of them could know peace. She didn't deserve peace, she knew that. But everyone else did. The nightmares that Clarke had been assaulted by almost every night since the mountain was only the truth of the horrors that Clarke knew she deserved. She had murdered so many people in the mountain. Teenagers, children, babies even. She deserved no peace, even though her people did.

Even Jasper, much to Clarke's relief, had finally gotten some peace and gotten some confidence in the last few months. It was only a little of the compensation he deserved for all the pain, suffering and trauma he had been through, since he got down to Earth.

But Clarke could stay here, sitting on the edge of the stone step of the library overlooking where the sun was setting and watch the beautiful scene in front of her for hours. Even if she deserved far less than the pain she got for failing her people so many times and for all the people she killed, Clarke could only feel content as she watched her family flourish on the land of the City of Lights.

The city here was beautiful, intriguing and unique. It didn't take them long to figure out where they landed when they saw the different destroyed stores with shattered glass with words written across the windows in Irish. They thought once it was Italian, or French but they knew now that it was Irish. There were few people in their group who knew any of those three languages, so they didn't know. The City of Lights, as they learned when they saw a greatly known cathedral in the middle of the city, was what used to be Limerick, Ireland. Since it was Ireland, there shouldn't be a surprise for why they saw some shops they didn't understand the language the writing was in. It explained why some of the animals they had seen were animals that Clarke and the others had never seen before. It explained all the sheep too.

When they had gotten to what they knew now was what used to be Europe, they had found so many decimated landmarks. And Clarke suspected that it might be Ireland, but hadn't realized it until she saw one of the landmarks. King John's Castle, a famous place in Limerick. And that had been when she realized that it was indeed somewhere in Ireland. They were safe in Ireland. It was an unexpected place to have landed on, but it was striking and beautiful. What was there not to be grateful for?

Clarke was just grateful to be alive and see all this. To live long enough to see this city and see her people live. Actually live. Not scrape every day to survive. She watched Atom, Monty and Harper and Roma with their children. She saw Wells and Raven together with their child. She smiled. There was some envy that she could feel strongly, but she ignored it. Her family deserved this. She didn't. And she was happy for them. She had survived so much and lived to see one of the most famous of Earth's cities. She had lived to see her family survive, have real lives and be happy.

It was amazing they survived the oceans and got to Ireland and saw all of this. To be on land and see all the wonders of Limerick, Ireland.

Clarke knew that if she died today, she would die happy. Haunted, but happy.

Clarke was watching Grounders and other sky people pulling the seafood they caught from the ocean, lobsters, mussels, clams, oysters and scallops to the many pots on the open stoves where the seafood was to be cooked for tonight. They usually had pig, deer, sheep or even wolf. But seafood was good to have once in a while. Not to mention they were right by the sea. It was convenient. She watched Jasper petting one of the puppies that they brought up from the stray dogs they bred. She smiled, recognizing the pup.

It was Ethan's pup. Ethan was Monty's stray. Ethan ended up having pups with Roma's stray, Tina. Jasper practically adopted all the puppies as soon as they were all born. Clarke smiled, watching Jasper with his adopted puppies, when an amused voice broke through her thoughts. "It's a nice view, isn't it, Griffin?" Clarke jumped and turned to the person who spoke, recognizing the voice. Zoe Monroe, the owner of the voice was someone who had haunted her dreams for a long time now. Monroe came over, a sly smile on her face, slowly dropping down on her rear on the stone step next to Clarke. Behind Monroe, was Niylah.

The oldest blonde of the three leaned against the wall of the library, next to the steps, smiling down at Clarke, intense warmth and affection in her eyes. "Hello, Klark." She said a purring tone. "You seem to have been made very content by something." Clarke nodded, trying to ignore the hot unease that was now clinging to her back. The same two people she knew weren't safe to be around, and now they were here. Clarke, without meaning to, shifted back a little across the step, away from Monroe.

Monroe didn't look offended. Her smirk grew. "Something wrong, Griffin?" She asked teasingly, eyebrows jumping from her green eyes.

Clarke tried not to make her uneasiness too obvious. Monroe and Niylah's interest in her made her all too aware of her feelings for them. And it was terrifying. Those lingering feelings that felt like they could come alive at any moment and force her into their arms. It was frightening. Clarke had used every fiber of her strength to restrain herself from coming close to either Monroe or to Niylah. But she always knew that her feelings would be there, treacherous as they were.

"Nothing's wrong," Clarke lied. "You just surprised me." Monroe nodded, but she didn't look convinced and neither did Niylah. Clarke tried not to squirm where she was sitting. She had only just started to figure out that Monroe had feelings for her like Niylah had a week ago. When she had been around Monroe before that, the way her heart raced around Monroe could be ignored. For a while. And Clarke could pretend that she didn't want Monroe. But when she realized that Monroe felt the same way, Clarke found herself becoming afraid.

Niylah spoke, walking away from the wall, and showing she had a parchment in her right hand. "I found something, dearest Klark. Perhaps you would like to look at it." She offered the stack of papers to Clarke. "You might enjoy looking at them. You told me once that you and your father shared an interest in these sorts of…stories, was it?"

Clarke lifted her head, knowing what it was that Niylah was talking about. There was a shared love a specific type of fiction that she and her father loved. She had recently told Niylah about it. They both loved plays. Operas even sometimes, depending on what the opera was. Clarke cautiously reached out for the papers and took them. There were marks of where dust and dirt had been wiped away from the ream of papers, but Clarke's heart leapt when she saw the title on the front paper. "Don Giovanni."

Clarke shivered. Don Giovanni had been the first opera her father had shown her. On his Ipad. He had saved many, since they were gifts from his father who had inherited them from his grandfather who had come on the Ark, escaping Earth. Sure, her dad had loved football before listening to anything else, but he had liked the finer kinds of art too. It was a nightmarish ending opera. But it was beautiful to Clarke.

It was an opera about decadent desire. Clarke had a feeling that if there was one opera that summed up how she felt, it was this one. She looked at Niylah and Monroe, at how they were staring at her and knew that it was not a coincidence that these two had found this. "And you're showing me this, because-?"

"I told you." Niylah said, suggesting that it was obvious. "We thought you might like it since you and your father both enjoyed opera." Clarke shook her head. "Don't play with me, Niylah. I know this isn't a coincidence. I've told you what it's about." Clarke looked at Niylah. "So you know what it means for me. So don't act." Niylah chuckled. "I think the best way to avoid feeling guilty for what you feel is to give into how you feel." Niylah said calmly, smiling as if she had figured out a complicated problem and made it simple.

Clarke sighed, wanting to glare at both other women. "It's not that simple." Clarke lay the ream of papers on her lap, wondering how Niylah had gotten it so clean. "And you know that, right? I have a lot of complicated feelings when it comes to the type of relationship you guys want. You know, Lexa?" Clarke got two nods in response, no surprise on either face of the women in front of her.

"We know, Clarke," Monroe answered, green eyes sad. "We know. We're not dumb. We know what kind of nightmares you have. We know how much you don't trust us." Monroe gave Clarke a pained look. "But Clarke?" The braided girl emphasized, leaning forward, "We won't betray you. We're loyal."

Clarke fought down a frustrated groan. It seemed impossible to be able to convey just how frustrated she felt. How did she even begin to explain how lost she was?

Her life had been shattered thanks to Lexa and Anya. They had destroyed her. how could she even begin to explain that she wasn't ready to trust either Niylah or Monroe, no matter how much they claimed that they were worthy of her trust?

They could have been the most trustworthy people in the world and Clarke knew she still wouldn't be able to trust them. It wasn't any fault of theirs. Or even hers. It was the Commander and Anya's. They had taken her chance and almost happily destroyed it.

Clarke said evenly to Monroe and Niylah, voice strong, "I'd like to believe you both. But I can't risk that. I'm sorry. I just can't." She received saddened looks, but nods afterwards. "We understand." Monroe answered. She looked at Niylah. "Don't we?" Niylah smiled. "Of course we understand. But you nevertheless have nothing to fear from us. When you are ready to find out that yourself, all you have to do, Klark, is say so." Niylah lowered herself from the step that led up to the side of the library, her feet right next to where Clarke sat. She stepped off the step and lowered herself down till she sat next to Clarke, making the younger tense. Clarke was now seated between Monroe and Niylah.

Clarke swallowed. In public technically, neither of them could do anything without it being obvious to everyone else. Still, being closed in like this made her incredibly nervous. She tried to ignore the shiver she got and the reminder of the nightmare or dream she had had last night with Monroe so close.

Monroe said in a smooth voice, smirking at her, "You seem really tense, Clarke? What's up?" Clarke shrugged. "Nothing. It doesn't involve you or Niylah." Instead of hearing anything that indicated that either of the other women were offended, both of them chuckled. "Well," Monroe said, grinning over at Niylah, leaning her head down. "That sounded VERY convincing, didn't it, Niylah?"

Niylah smirked. Out of the corner of Clarke's eye, she could see Niylah's amused look. Sure, Clarke had just said that she didn't want to be involved with either Niylah or with Monroe. But neither other woman looked convinced. And Clarke knew that the worst part was that they had every right not to look convinced. She didn't know how, but they knew her. They knew her through and through. And they knew that her hesitance and refusal was mostly only temporary. Clarke's pressed her lips tighter together and her teeth clenched. She couldn't let this be only temporary. What would she do if she gave into her temptation when it came to Niylah and Monroe?

To let her guard down again? To open her heart up again? To risk betrayal? No. She fucking couldn't do that ever again.

Without waiting for either of the other women to begin trying to get to her again, she got up off the stone step, walking back a few steps before facing them.

"Look," She began, sighing, trying to ignore how her heart was beginning to race. "I'm flattered that you both have feelings for me. But I'm telling you it's not a good idea." At Monroe's smirk and Niylah's eyebrows lifting, Clarke sighed, walking over and placed the ream of papers onto the step between Niylah and Monroe. "You know the main character in this? Don Giovanni? Do you know what happens to him at the end when he refuses to change and stop giving into temptation? He goes to hell. An enemy of his comes back from the dead and takes his soul to hell."

Clarke didn't wait for either of the other two to answer and she turned around and walked away.

"That didn't go too well." Monroe chuckled, looking at Niylah. Niylah shrugged, smirking. She leaned down and picked up the papers. "Hell, hmm?" She asked. Monroe nodded. "Yeah. It's this horrible place where no one wants to go to. It's where evil people go in this religion called-"

"Christianity." Niylah finished, staring at the papers. She looked up at Monroe who was startled and she smirked again. "Like you, I can read. I've read books on the very flawed religion. I can't believe people really believed in that at one time. It's a ridiculous religion. But Trikru religion doesn't believe in that. Trikru belief is that when one dies, they come back and choose a new body to live in. Another living person will carry their soul."

Monroe nodded. She had heard of that before from Lincoln. The Trikru believed in a type of reincarnation. Only this one, the soul would inhabit a body that already had another living soul inside. That made it sound kind of creepy. But Monroe guessed it couldn't be any more creepy than being told you were going to hell just because you masturbated.

Monroe nodded, smirking. "Yeah. Christianity's really weird. And dumb. Can't believe people followed that religion for years. It's one of the reason why homophobia was such a big problem on the Ark. Because homophobic people used Christianity as a way of condemning LGBTQ people up there." Niylah listened to this and nodded. Monroe and the others had explained what LGBTQ meant. It was all part of a kind of "community" on the Ark. Each of the letters stood for something. And the same thing had existed on the ground before the bombs hit. Niylah didn't understand how anyone could allow it to be only that small portion. Why would anyone care about someone's sexuality or their "gender identity?"

Down here in the different tribes, that sort of thing never needed a title or a tiny community. Because it was allowed and celebrated in ALL the tribes. Whether Plains, Shallow Valley, Glowing Forest, Rock Line, Tree, Ocean, even Ice, all tribes celebrated the different genders, sexes and sexualities. If someone who was born a man identified as a woman, they called him "her" and "she" from then on at that person's request and did not expect them to wear anything more than what they chose to wear and the tasks that they chose to take as the woman that that person identified as. The same if a born woman identified as a man.

And sexuality wasn't a question either. If anyone was sexually attracted to one who was the same sex as that person or both, that person was still celebrated for who they were. The only tribe who had showed any issue with accepting all sexualities, sexes and genders were the Broad Leaf and those that had made their feelings known had soon been cast out of the tribe. Those that were found were quickly killed by other villages for their intolerance and the violence they tried to inflict on those that were attracted to people of the same sex. After that, no attempted violence to those that the Ark people could define as "LGBTQ" were in no danger again from the Broad Leaf tribe.

It struck Niylah as strange, so strange. Because why would there be need for a small community of people like that, when the truth was that there were far more people like that across the tribes than just a small community?

"I know you think it's ridiculous that there was just one community of LGBTQ people on the Ark." Monroe said. "And yeah. It's crazy. Because there are way more of us than people think. But for LGBTQ people, that was considered a big step up? To even HAVE a community. That was big." Niylah nodded. "But why wasn't the community the entire Ark? Out of everyone on the Ark, do you really believe that all of those that were LGBTQ could all be found in that community on the Ark? Do you think on the Ark that was everyone who was sexually attracted to someone of the same sex or both sexes or all genders? Why was there such a small community with as many people on the Ark as you say there were?"

Monroe tried to think of an answer that wouldn't undercut how fucked up the history of LGBTQ people in many different countries were. That was kind of the whole history of oppression against LGBTQ people, wasn't it? Even with communities provided, there was an expectation the society of the Ark, one that lasted from the societies from back on Earth before the bombs hit. The expectation was that there were only a handful of lesbians and gays only a handful of bisexuals and trans people and only a handful of pansexuals.

The belief that society had raised Monroe with was that even with a community, being gay, bisexual or anything that went against "straight" and being anything that wasn't one hundred percent the same gender as the sex one was born as was unnatural.

And that belief? It gave the idea that there only a few of LGBTQ people that existed. That sure as hell had been the case back on the Ark. It was still kind of a shock to the system to know that being not entirely straight, if at all was widely accepted and having it widely accepted that there were more than two genders for Monroe.

On the Earth that existed now? There was no need for an LGBTQ community because everyone was accepted for exactly who they were. Every tribe made those with varying sexualities and genders be just as welcomed as any straight person in the tribe. Or as much as any person whose gender lined up with their sex. Monroe had to admit sometimes she wondered if the Christian version of heaven actually existed and if she had died and gone there or if she had just been hit really hard and was dreaming whenever she realized that this was actually a world where you could be accepted and even celebrated for your sexuality and gender identity.

But after over a hundred tries of pinching herself to see if she was awake and all those attempts hurting, she realized she just had to accept that that this was real, even if it sounded way too crazy and good to be true.

Back on the Ark, Monroe had been beaten up bad by her dad. Her dad, she was sure always knew. She was sure that her dad always knew that his daughter was into girls and not men. And he had hated her for it. He even threatened to cut her throat open one time. That had been the end of it. Monroe had run away as soon as she could and stayed hidden in the criminal underground that had existed on the Ark to stay away from him. Monroe had a violent childhood. But she would prefer what she went through in the underground than what would have happened if she had stayed in her father's bunk.

Monroe had survived. Survived her father's drinking and hitting and threats of giving her to his friends to pleasure themselves and had survived his threats of murder. And survived the criminal underbelly of the Ark to come here, to this paradise, where they could be anything they wanted and they'd be accepted.

The Commander, her betrayal? That was a price that they had to pay at the time and could now avoid. The Commander had fucked them over. But like everyone on the Ark, the Commander could fuck herself. She, just like the people on the Ark, had abused her power. It didn't matter that Lexa was like Monroe sexually speaking. Monroe wasn't going to be on her side just because she was also a lesbian or wasn't a straight. Lexa was a lying coward. She betrayed them to the worst enemies. The Mountain Men.

And now the rest of the tribes knew that the Commander was a coward. Now the rest of the tribes knew that they owed Clarke. Even before they had fled North America, Monroe and the others heard the name that the tribes called Clarke. Wanheda, the Commander of Death. Monroe was sure now that the tribes respected Clarke more than they did Lexa. It always made her smirk. Lexa really screwed herself over when she left them to die. Because she pitted the Mountain Men and Clarke against each other, even if it wasn't on purpose, it had ended with Clarke killing the tribes' greatest enemy and earning way more respect than Lexa would ever get. Lexa only got the tribes an agreement of shared land and not touching any guns or bombs. But Clarke? Clarke ENDED the threat.

Monroe wished she could pity Lexa for her stupidity. But Lexa's stupidity had earned all of them their freedom and the respect they got when they had gotten to the Ocean tribe and grabbed the boats. Monroe had seen the way the warriors of the Floukru had looked at Clarke when they had seen her and realized who she was. Monroe had seen those looks given only a few times without being forced with fear. They were the kind of reverent looks that the Grounders gave the Commander.

The Grounders respected Clarke, deeply. And Lexa had stupidly done that by handing the 100 and the other Ark people off to the Mountain Men. She had set up the situation that led to the Mountain Men being killed off at Clarke's hand. The Commander could make up excuses all she wanted. But if she had been there during the battle, then Clarke probably wouldn't have had to pull the lever that killed the Mountain Men.

Even if the Commander denied it, she had made Wanheda.

Monroe turned her head to Niylah, smiling, "Well, sure, it doesn't make sense that there weren't more places for people like me and like Clarke. But now we're here. And Clarke," Monroe nodded to where Clarke had walked over to. "She doesn't have to be scared of trusting anymore. But she doesn't believe that."

Niylah nodded. "Yes. Damage from the Ark? Or because of Heda?" Monroe shrugged, grimacing. "Both, I think. Her mom doesn't like that Clarke's bisexual. She doesn't like that Clarke's sexually attracted to girls just like she's attracted to guys." Niylah nodded. So it was both. Her mother's lack of acceptance and being abandoned by the Commander just when she thought hope was possible had gotten Klark to be distrustful, to be more "standoffish" than other people as the Sky People called the word.

Klark didn't want to be told that her feelings were wrong or that she was wrong to put her trust in anyone again. Niylah's eyes went back to Klark. They would have to show her that they meant her no harm. They only wished to love her. "Here," Niylah said, anger running in her blood, thinking about Klark leaving in the Ark and not being accepted by her own mother for who she was, "Here Klark will be loved and accepted."

"Exactly." Monroe said. "But for that to happen? She needs to let us close." Monroe pushed down a small growl, thinking about Abby Griffin. Her father? She always knew to run away from her father. His drunken states made him violent and aggressive. He might as well have a sign hanging from his neck that said, "run away, kid, or I'll fucking kill yah."

Her father had been an obvious danger. But Abby Griffin? She was an insidious woman. Monroe had heard some of the things Abby had said to Clarke to get her daughter to listen to her in Polis and in the Ark camp. Abby, she was such a manipulator. She played with Clarke's emotions. Made it very apparent that the only way for Clarke to get her mother's love was if Clarke stepped down and stopped being the leader. Sure, Abby hadn't said it like that, but Monroe wasn't very good at social cues and even she figured out what Abby was saying when she had said in her own words, "Clarke, you would want your father to be proud of you, right? So don't do this. Let me take care of everything. I'll forget that you didn't respect my command with Emerson."

Monroe's teeth still clenched hard, thinking about that. How the fuck could Abby say something like that to Clarke? To her own daughter? Abby used Clarke's dead father against her. That was so fucked up. Monroe almost wished that Abby had died in the crash. Yeah, it would have hurt Clarke. But what kind of mother had Abby been since she had come down? She had used manipulations against Clarke since Clarke took power because Abby hated that Clarke was the leader. And to add to that, Abby hated that Clarke was also attracted to girls like she was to boys.

It was disgusting. Monroe hated Abby so much. Maybe more than her own father.

"By the way," Niylah said, interrupting Monroe's furious thought process and making the braided girl turn to her. "I was bringing some of the sheep over to the main building for when they're to be killed and I saw Klark sleeping in one of the meadows. I wanted to make sure that she was really asleep and didn't need help. I could see her thrashing when I got close. Her past haunts her." Monroe nodded, sadness in her eyes. "So you've said before." She said. "We're the ones that can heal her." Niylah shook her head. "We can only offer comfort and love. Klark is the only one who can or has the right to forgive herself. The only thing she has done is protect us. There is no forgiveness for _us_ to give. The only one who needs to forgive her is her."

Monroe smirked at Niylah's cryptic words. What Niylah just said might have been a little weird, but Monroe understood. Since the moment Monroe and Clarke had come down in the dropship, Clarke had done nothing but protect her people. Clarke had wiped out the Mountain Men, saving Monroe and sparing the rest of the Grounders from the Mountain Men's wrath. Niylah's mother had been avenged.

Yes, Monroe understood what Niylah had meant. Clarke needed to forgive herself. And the way that would happen quicker was if she had two people who loved her more than anything or anyone else in the world.

Monroe wanted to ask Niylah something, but decided against it, watching Clarke talk with Raven. Right now Wells had his and Raven's kid. He was holding their child's hand as they went to a stone fountain.

Monroe couldn't care less what she had to do to prove that she loved Clarke. She'd _show_ Clarke that she loved her.

Monroe glanced at Niylah, then turned back to Clarke. She used to think that being around Niylah and noticing how much Niylah wanted to be with Clarke would make her jealous. She was wrong. She found that their shared love, desire, yearning, affection and attraction only intrigued her and it made her trust Niylah more. And she sure trusted Niylah around Clarke than she would anyone else that wasn't Atom, Wells or Raven.

Monroe asked Niylah, eyes fixed on Clarke, "Should we visit Clarke tonight?" Monroe, when she didn't hear Niylah's reaction, turned to the older woman, awaiting the answer. Niylah was looking at her, no emotion on her face. After a few seconds, she nodded. "Sha." Niylah answered. "We should. Ask her before bed if she would allow us to stay with her tonight." Monroe nodded. They understood the mandatory behavior. If Clarke refused them, accept and respect her rejection and leave. But not before adding in a gentle, but suggestive comment of what the two of them together could offer Clarke.

Monroe nodded to Clarke. "Tonight then." She said. Niylah nodded, smiling. "Tonight." Strangely Niylah looked forward to tonight, regardless of what Klark's choice was. If Klark accepted, then Niylah and Monroe would pleasure Klark to the point of unbearable ecstasy. But if she refused? Then Niylah oddly still looked forward to tonight. She looked forward to the suggestion. To watching Klark realizing that she'd have to wait till their next encounter to decide. And that she would be forced to wait and fantasize, becoming increasingly aroused.

It was a delicious kind of delay.

Monroe chuckled, "You know, I used to think you having feelings for Clarke would make me jealous. But I don't anymore." Niylah cocked her head at the younger. Niylah smiled. "I never thought I would be jealous of you. You Sky people believe that only two people can be together. You can love more than two people. If Klark can love the both of us, then I see no reason for jealousy."

Monroe chuckled darkly, smirking at the possibilities.

Later that night, after Niylah and Monroe went to gathering food for that night, and the subject wasn't talked about for the rest of the daylight hours, night fell, food was eaten and everyone went off to their sleeping quarters.

As Clarke and the happily fed, waddling Maria walked through the hall, going to the door, Clarke almost jumped when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around slowly. She knew that when it came to her life, she had no reason to worry. Firstly, Maria would have immediately started barking if there had been something wrong. But secondly, there were in a place where there weren't any other human beings. Limerick, Ireland, from what they could tell was abandoned of human life. So anyone approaching right now most likely would not be an enemy.

No, that wasn't why Clarke tensed when she heard footsteps. She tensed because when she detected that there were in fact two sets of footsteps, she knew who was approaching her.

When she faced the two coming over to her, her own body inches from the door to her bedroom, not at all surprised when she saw Monroe and Niylah.

The braided blonde and the oldest blonde of the three faced Clarke and Niylah was the first to speak. "I believe you know what we wish to speak with you about." Clarke nodded. "I know." The hallway was dark, save for the small lights attached to the ceiling. And Clarke could still make out the faces of Monroe and Niylah as they stared at her. Niylah smirked, taking just one step closer to Clarke. "And your answer?" Clarke shook her head. Her voice didn't come out not even a little as strong as she hoped it would. "We've thought about it and fantasized about it. Why go further than that?"

Niylah cocked her head, smirking. "Because you _want_ to."

Clarke tensed, wishing she could protest, but finding the breath caught in her throat. What could she say to that? It would be a lie if she said no, she didn't want to be with them. And if she said that she didn't want them to come inside and be in bed with her, they knew it would be a lie. They could read her body language. She was sure of it. Niylah sure could. And she was sure that she had taught Monroe how to do it too.

She had seen how Monroe's eyes followed her lately whenever Clarke denied being interested in either of them. She was sure that Monroe detected the lies.

When she realized she couldn't answer, Clarke fell silent. She was able to make out Monroe's smirk in the dark. "Nothing to say, Clarke?" The braided girl asked, voice a little too innocent. Clarke shook her head. "Look," She began carefully, "I should get to bed. You two should as well."

Niylah nodded. "Is there a reason we can't go to bed together?"

"I-" Clarke's voice was stifled. What was she supposed to say? Again, they'd know if she was lying. "It's not a good idea." Was all she got out. Monroe nodded. "Yeah. You said that already. Why isn't it a good idea?"

"It just isn't." Clarke said and she wasn't sure if there was any other excuse that could come out that could be any more flimsy.

"I just don't like thinking about risking my feelings again." Clark said at last, shocked she was able to get it out. "I don't like thinking about it. I don't know what will happen." Niylah said quietly, smiling, "There's an easy way to find out what could happen. Just let us in."

Clarke shivered. If she just let Niylah and Monroe in, she knew what would happen next. Or she had an idea. The dreams, the fantasies that she had convinced herself were only nightmares…the hands and mouths that would be on her, searching, devouring, groping…

Clarke swallowed, feeling warmth between her legs. Shit. Already she was getting excited. She hoped because of how dark it was that Niylah and Monroe couldn't see her, but she saw the way their eyes traveled down to her lower torso and saw how she was squirming around. And even in the dark, Clarke could see Niylah's mouth twitch and Monroe's teeth show in a grin.

"What's the answer, Griffin?" Monroe asked, hungry, yearning green eyes staring right at Clarke's eyes. "Yes. Or no?"

Clarke could just feel the need, the desire becoming overwhelming. They were so close. So damn close. She could practically smell their sweat. All she had to do was reach out to them and pull them to her and to the room. In seconds all of them would be inside and Niylah and Monroe would be on top of her on the bed. She wouldn't NEED those dreams and fantasies anymore to get what she wanted. Instead, desperate, feeling like her common sense was a buoy in a gray, storm covered sea, she remembered that the door was right behind her-escape was right behind her, and she reached out behind her, almost like grabbing onto a life saver that was cast out by a lifeboat to save someone from drowning, and she turned the knob, her words coming out fast.

"I'm sorry. But we can't do this. Please go to bed. Both of you. And not with me." Clarke felt like the last part didn't even need to be said. But for some reason, Clarke had said it. To ward Niylah and Monroe off? To get them to think she didn't want them? She didn't know. But maybe it was just to convince herself. That sounded like the most likely reason of all.

Clarke opened up the door and backed into the room, her eyes never leaving the Grounder and the other Sky person. She heard the clicking of Maria's nails against the floor and knew that the dog was in the room with her. "Goodnight, you two." Clarke said, desperation in her voice as she closed the door slowly.

She watched Niylah and Monroe's disappearing faces, both of them looking no more deterred than they had this afternoon. "Goodnight, Klark." Niylah said. "Goodnight." Monroe chuckled.

The burning stares disappeared behind the now closed door and Clarke quickly locked it. She had a feeling that Niylah and Monroe both knew why she locked it. It wasn't to keep them out. It was to remind her not to open the door and _let_ them in.

Did Clarke think that Niylah or Monroe would ever force her into anything? No, she didn't. But she didn't know if she could trust herself. She didn't know if she could stop herself if she let herself slip even a moment.

She heard shuffling and clicking and knew that Maria was up on her bed already. She turned around, flipping on the light switch. Sure enough, Maria was on the bed, in the middle curled up, her snout against her back legs, her tail tucked under her. Clarke rolled her eyes, smirking. Silly dog.

She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, peed and pooped, washed her hands and went off to bed.

She changed into her shorts and T-shirt and got under the covers next to Maria, petting the dog and turning out the lights, pressing the light switch by her headboard.

She lay her head against the pillow, staring into the dark, thinking about Monroe and Niylah. This was the first time they had ever offered themselves to her. But she knew it was coming. She had known for a while now. She had seen the way they looked at her. She had seen how their eyes followed her almost every moment she was in the same vicinity as the two of them. Some of the things they said, making their devotion clear, made it very difficult for Clarke to concentrate and not think about the "what ifs."

Clarke turned onto her back, staring up the black ceiling, trying to get so sleep, to focus on anything except Monroe and Niylah. She didn't want to have another dream about them.

Those dreams were dangerous. Sure, they were far safer than the real thing, but they still were dangerous. Tempting Clarke. Making her desire. Making her crave the other two. Eventually Clarke was able to focus enough on blocking other things out and drifted off.

Dreams were not as merciful as Clarke had hoped them to be. Soon hands grasped Clarke around the wrists and pinned them at the sides of her head, her body straddled. Clarke gasped, eyes opening up to see Niylah above her, smiling. Niylah's blonde hair hung past her shoulders and face. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke spotted Monroe getting up onto the bed, a smirk crossing her face. Monroe reached for Clarke's shirt and started pushing it up.

Clarke gasped, trying to pull away, but Niylah had her captive, so she wasn't going anywhere. Niylah held her arms above her head as Monroe lunged down and sucked on Clarke's left breast, then as Clarke writhed around, Monroe moved to the other breast.

Monroe then crawled up, her hands replacing Niylah's, holding Clarke down. Clarke broke out of her panting, aroused state to look at where Niylah was lowering, that devilish smile on the oldest blonde's face. Clarke's pants were lowered fast. Clarke couldn't prevent the moan that left her mouth when the head of the phantasm that was Niylah lowered and the oldest of the three of them pulled Clarke's clit into her mouth and sucked. The phantasm that was Monroe leaned down and whispered darkly in Clarke's ear as the woman under her bucked and moaned, "You know you can't deny us forever, Clarke. Admit to what you want. Give up. For all three of us. Give up."

Clarke could feel the braided girl smirking against her face and she whimpered as the sensations of an orgasm rocked her in her sleep.

This wasn't real. None of what she saw her and Monroe and Niylah doing were real. In nightmares and dreams, people could do as they wanted to do. There was no one in dreams and fantasies that could tell you that you were screwed up and wrong for desiring other women, not unless your mind willed it. That was where the safety lay.

But as Clarke had discovered with the two demons tormenting her in her pleasurable dreams, it was also where the danger lay. Clarke knew that Monroe's words, despite being manufactured by her dreams, were true. She couldn't deny what was between the three of them. Not much longer.

It was why she kept denying them. In nightmares and dreams and fantasies, she didn't need to act. Her desires would manifest the fantasies FOR her. She wouldn't have to do anything. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she would HAVE to succumb.

Because she didn't know how much more of this torture she could take.


End file.
